


Runs In the Family

by FreshBrains



Category: Bates Motel (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Character Study, Dark Character, Devotion, Female Friendship, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Mother-Daughter Relationship, POV Emma, Past Rape/Non-con, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4194780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think we—women—like to think we’re independent, that we don’t need each other. But that’s not always true, is it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runs In the Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SegaBarrett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/gifts).



> I really hope you enjoy this!

One day, Emma looks at Norma through the office window where she’s stooped in the vegetable garden in front of the main house, her hair wild, still wrapped in her bathrobe. She glances up and sees Emma; she waves cheerfully, smile bright and clear even through the dirty window.

Emma waves back, and in a moment of tight panic, realizes that she understands Norman now. She understands what it is to love Norma Bates.

*

Emma’s not in the market for a mom. She loved her mom like any kid loves their mom, she loved her laugh and her smile, loved her nerdy jokes, loved the awful sandals she wore in the summer. She loved her mom, but her mom died. End of story.

Emma’s not one to wallow, especially in that she can’t change.

But she _is_ in the market for a friend. When she tells Norman this, he laughs a little, not sure if she’s serious. “But _we’re_ friends,” he says plainly.

“I know, but I need a _female_ friend. For, you know. Girl stuff.” She fiddles with her oxygen tube.

Norman blushes a little, clearing his throat. “I guess I don’t know too much about that, do I?”

It’s Emma’s turn to laugh. She likes Norman—he’s unsettling, and she doesn’t mind being unsettled once in a while. Her dad spends all his time making sure she’s safe in a cocoon of relaxation and ease, even if he’d deny it, and it drives her insane.

Girls aren’t meant to be kept in glass cages. Emma thinks they need to see the world through their own eyes.

“You know who’s a girl?” Norman says, giving her a teasing smile. “My mom.”

“No way,” Emma jokes, and gives him a light shove. “Your mom’s a woman, not a girl.”

“But she probably knows about girl stuff,” Norman says. "I mean, she was a girl. Once. A kid, I mean."

Emma is quiet for a moment, considering. She supposes Norman is right, though it's hard to imagine Norma as anything but the woman she is—confident, intelligent, headstrong, and burdened beyond all belief.

*

Norma Bates scares Emma. There’s no question about it. She scares her plainly, in the same way fuzzy spiders and horror movies and driving at night scare her. Norma has a blunt-edged fierceness Emma has never experienced before, never _seen_ before, a power in her walk, an iciness in her eyes.

But still, she’s a _mom_. She asks if Emma’s eaten dinner, asks how she’s doing in her chemistry class. She asks her to say hello to her father. She asks if Norman is getting along well at school.

Emma answers honestly and curtly, only stumbling over her words a little bit. The kitchen in the main house gives her an eerie feeling, like something bad happened in there. “Mrs. Bates, can I ask you something?”

“Oh, call me Norma, sweetie,” Norma says, still flitting around the kitchen, doing this and that at breakneck speed. “And of course, anything.”

Emma clears her throat. “Do you think it’s important for women to have…women friends? Female friends, I guess?”

Norma pauses, leaning against the counter, clucking her tongue. “I’d say yes, even though I’m a bad example. I don’t have many friends at all, nonetheless female friends.” She gives a self-deprecating chuckle, cheerful façade not fading in the least. “I think we—women—like to think we’re independent, that we don’t need each other. But that’s not always true, is it?”

Emma wonders when was the last time she truly _needed_ anything besides her father to thump her on the chest when she needed to cough up some gunk. “I don’t really know. My mom always said her sisters were the most important people in the world to her, but she never talked to her brother much.”

Then it happens, the little change Emma sees when Norma slides somewhere else for a little bit. Her mouth drops into a slight frown, her eyes glaze over and her gaze wanders. Her hands don’t stop scrubbing dishes in the sink. “I don’t talk to my brother much, either,” she says softly.

For some reason—a reason she won’t be able to articulate until much later—Emma feels as if she’s been given something from Norma that she hasn’t given anyone else, that a part of Norma is hers now.

Emma doesn’t mind it at all.

*

Emma has never wanted to hurt someone before. Not even a little.

She knows what it means to hurt, to gasp for air, to be in the kind of pain that nobody inflicted on her, that just _happens._ She can’t imagine wanting to do that to someone in turn. She can’t imagine being responsible for that.

She knows that taxidermy, or at least the kind her dad does, isn’t hurting the animals—they all lived long before being turned into something else. But Emma has never liked it on principle.  So when Norman starts working with her dad as an apprentice, Emma approves but still finds a little odd. Her dad is a taxidermist by trade—his main goal was to teach, which he accomplished, but his father was a taxidermist and so was his grandfather, so he sort of fell into it when they moved to the States. She didn’t know there were people like Norman who would actually _want_ to do it, like, for _fun_.

But Emma likes that he’d spending time with her dad in the basement, learning the tricks of the trade under the bright shop lights.

That way, Emma can spend more time with Norma in the office or the kitchen or on the front porch, in those little feminine spaces carved just big enough for the two of them.

*

Emma’s sulking, her hair a knotted mess, her chest a ball of phlegm threatening to make its way north, and she’s horizontal on Norma’s couch with her makeup smearing against Norma’s clean white apron.

“You said it would be nice,” she says, feeling like a child. “It was _weird_.”

Norma, to Emma’s surprise, barks out a laugh, fingers stroking rhythmically through Emma’s hair. “You’re a teenage girl, Emma. It’s supposed to be weird. I said it would be nice, not perfect, didn’t I?”

“It was _so_ far from perfect,” Emma says, suddenly embarrassed—not that she’s talking about this to Norma, but because she’s talking about it at all. “He kept pulling my hair accidentally. And it was over so _fast_.”

“Oh, honey, that doesn’t change,” Norma says cheerfully. But her voice sobers, and her hand moves slower in Emma’s hair. “This is what being a woman is. It might not have been that bad, but it’s never great. It’s the _feeling_ he gives you, deep in your gut, even if he just…glances at you, or holds your hand.” Her bright voice comes back. “Does that make sense?”

Emma thinks Norma is sanitizing a little for her, but she’s so tired that she doesn’t mind. “I guess. He doesn’t really make me feel like that, though.” She doesn’t mind Gunner, but she doesn’t love him, either.

They sit like that for a long time, the clock on the coffee table ticking steadily away. Emma wonders if Norma has ever loved anyone, and if so, what he did to put that pain in her voice.

*

He comes to White Pine Bay, the coward. She can tell just by looking at him—he’s got Norma and Dylan’s sandy blonde hair and stern mouth, their sure stride. He’s the worst thing Emma’s ever seen, and he’s _there_ , in her town, and now he’s driving up in his nasty old truck onto Norma’s land.

For the first time, Emma knows what wanting to _hurt_ feels like. Her lungs and chest ache; she’s already having a bad day with her CF, and seeing him just makes it feel worse. He makes her breath rattle in her throat, makes her cheeks hot.

And the worst part is that nobody tells Norma. Nobody tells Emma, either, but Emma doesn’t expect them to. The Bates-Massett family thrives on secrecy. And she doesn’t expect Dylan to tell Norma, either—Caleb is his father. She gets that. She doesn’t want to, but she does.

But _Norman_? One of the things Emma found equally admirable and chilling about Norman was his inexplicable loyalty to his mother—a loyalty she felt as well, which chilled her even more. So what did it say about Norman that his friend of only about a year, the weird girl with the oxygen tank who wriggled her way into this fucked-up family, cared about his mother more than him?

 _Fuck Norman_ , Emma couldn’t help but think as she stalked towards Caleb’s truck, her tank rattling behind her. Even swearing in her head made her cringe. _Norma was right. We don’t want to admit it, but women need to stand up for each other, because nobody else will_.

“Who do you think you are?” Emma’s voice comes out in a throaty croak, but she puts enough power behind it to keep her feet pinding hard on the gravel.

Caleb startles, hand pausing on the inside door handle of his truck. The window is open wide enough for him to hear her clearly, and he doesn't roll it down any further. “Can I help you?”

“You can help me…and the rest of us,” she starts, and wonders when she started considering herself a part of the family, “by getting out of here and leaving Norma _alone_.”

Caleb’s face hardens into the same tight mask Emma knows so well in Norma, and that alone sends another kick of anger into her belly. “That’s none of your business, kid.”

“I’ve been here,” Emma says, voice cracking. “I’ve been with her, and Norman, and Caleb. I know _everything_.” She takes another step towards the car and wipes away her tears with the sleeve of her cardigan. “I know what you did to her.”

Before she can get any closer, a warm hand lands on her shoulder, nails digging ever so gently into her skin. “Emma, honey,” Norma says, mouth close enough to Emma’s ear for Emma to feel Norma's hair brush her neck, “that’s enough. Why don’t you go into the office?”

Emma wheels around to look up at Norma, knowing she looks like a little girl with tearstained cheeks. “No,” she says, and takes Norma’s hand, not wanting her alone with Caleb. “No, I don’t trust him. Tell him to _leave_.”

Norma leans down and untangles her fingers from Emma’s so she can cup Emma’s face in her hands and brush away the tears with her thumbs. “I’ve always been able to handle him. I promise. Now go into the office and I’ll be there in a minute.” She’s not wearing her mask—her face is bare and open, pale blue eyes shining with something like fear. “I’ll be alright, Emma.”

Emma takes a deep, painful breath and nods, not looking back at Caleb. She’s worried she’ll throw up if she does. She stumbles to the office, holding in her cough until she’s behind the closed door and can safely break down.

*

Norma drinks a glass of whiskey, something Emma has never seen her do before, clinking with ice and a hunk of lime. The smell turns Emma's stomach. Norma’s been leaning against the desk for the past ten minutes, sipping her drink and staring at the wall, while Emma makes herself small in the corner chair.

“I’m sorry,” Emma says, voice still weak. “That was dumb. I shouldn't have gotten involved.”

Norma puts her drink down. It leaves a ring on the wood; her hand is still damp and trembling as she walks slowly to Emma, gaze far away. She settles her dry hand in Emma’s hair, fingernails scratching gently against her scalp. “I think,” she says, “you’re just what this family needs, Emma.”

Emma closes her eyes and melts into Norma’s touch.

A part of her, the darkest part, knows that she’d do anything for this woman, no matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> I know you wanted a focus on Norma, but I got carried away with the idea of an AU where Emma sort of develops this Norman-like devotion to Norma and is just really drawn to her. I had a _lot_ of fun writing Norma in this fic, though! The 'dark character' tag is a little much, because I did write a bit of a darker version of Emma, but it isn't too much of a wild difference from canon. That's there the AU comes in. Also AU in the fact that I wrote it so Norma tells Emma about her childhood and Caleb before she tells her sons.
> 
> There is mention of Will Decody's taxidermy, but no violence against animals--just canon references to the job. Canon events from seasons 1-3 are all mentioned, so spoilers for the entire show.
> 
> Title from the song by Amanda Palmer.


End file.
